


All I Can Do is Sing This Song For You

by bergann



Category: Generation Kill/Temeraire
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Dragons, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-31
Updated: 2011-07-31
Packaged: 2017-10-23 08:19:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/248173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bergann/pseuds/bergann
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ray finds the egg in a run-down shed in a shitty little village suspected of hiding members of the Taliban.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All I Can Do is Sing This Song For You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hulubululu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hulubululu/gifts).



> Basically I traded for an amazing doodle of Ray and a dragon with the promise of some gen dragon-rider!Ray. This is that fic. In my mind, it is titled "4 snippets of Ray and his baby", which is also a good description of what awaits.
> 
> My dragon-info is taken from pretty much everywhere, but mostly the amazing _Temeraire_ series by Naomi Novik. My logic is faulty at best, and this is just...not realistic. At all. Title is from the song "Hey Dragon" from A Very Potter Musical (because yes, I am that sort of gal). I apologize in advance.

**I.**  
Ray finds the egg in a run-down shed in a shitty little village suspected of hiding members of the Taliban. It's the middle of the night, and the recon mission is kind of a joke -- surveillance had already made it pretty fucking obvious that if the Taliban had been there, they were gone by now, but command still insisted on a closer look, in case some armaments were left behind.

The shed, or at least what looks like a shed but could, Ray supposes, just as easily be someone's house, is in bad enough condition that Ray would not trust it to protect a paint bucket from the elements, let alone whatever weapons cache the FMU (Fucking Morons Upstairs) are having wet dreams about.

He nearly drops his gun at the sight of the egg, nestled in some straw, completely unprotected except for a rusty old lock. "Hey, baby, don't you worry, your pal Ray-Ray is gonna get you out of this miserable hellhole," Ray whispers, and he readjusts his equipment so he's able to carry the egg and still fire his gun, if he should need to.

Ray knows the Taliban are in no way stupid enough to leave a dragon egg unprotected like this, especially if it's as close to hatching as Ray thinks it looks through his NVGs. But as he gets out of the village with it no problem, seriously not even a goat he nearly stumbles over stirs, he has to reconsider.

Maybe the Taliban are that stupid. Maybe they had no idea what the fuck they were in the possession of. Or maybe, and Ray thinks this is far more likely, some local villager got the egg from the mountains (Afghanistan is still ripe with ferals), and was hoping to trade it in for some better living conditions, or a ticket out of harm's way.

Whatever it is, Ray doesn't really care. He murmurs softly to the egg as he walks, and once he reaches the first rendezvous and makes sure it's secure, he bundles the egg up in his jacket and sings whatever pop songs he can think of to pass the time, and ensure he won't end up breaking the protocols for imposing political opinions on easily impressionable dragon eggs.

What he cares about is how shit-eating he can make his grin as Brad finally joins up with him, announcing in a dramatic whisper, "Hey Brad, check it out homes, I'm pregnant!"

Brad stares at the egg. "Person, where in this godforsaken land did you find a fucking dragon egg?"

"Some hajji's shed, dude," Ray grins, stroking over the shell. Command might want to try and replace him with a higher-rank, but there is no real covert out here, and certainly no hatchery. There's a real chance that before they can reach one, the egg will already have hatched. "Can you believe they were just letting it lie around, without any kind of protection at all? I swear the lock on my playpen as a kid was higher quality than that shit. It's close to hatching too."

Brad inspects the egg himself, and then says, "God needs to check up on the prescription on his glasses if he thinks you're anything like the Virgin Mary. I'll be surprised if the egg makes it past base before it hatches, assuming Anderson and Lyker keep to the schedule."

 **II.**  
Anderson and Lyker do stick to the schedule, and they're only back at base long enough to debrief before the egg starts to hatch. Ray's right, command does try to pawn off a more experienced and higher-ranked aviator on the egg, standing on hand with a harness; though thankfully they don't try to keep Ray from witnessing the hatching.

The dragonet is tiny, even judged against other newly hatched dragonets, and its hide is a smooth mocha color, but the eyes are sparkling emerald. The dragonet yawns, flashing its razor-sharp teeth and peers critically at the command-approved aviator. There's still a piece of shell stuck to one of its curved horns, and Ray can't help but think that this particular dragonet looks especially...elegant. "Are you my Ray-Ray?" she asks.

"No, I'm not," the guy says, "I am Lieutenant Stark. But I do have a lovely camel for you, if you'll let me harness you."

The dragonet sniffs. "Why should I let you harness me when you are not my Ray-Ray? I think you'll find he's my Captain."

"Holy shit," Ray says faintly, and the dragonet seizes upon his voice at once, dismissing Lieutenant Stark without a second thought.

"I am Noel," the dragon says, "like in your song, remember you were sad because you were a teenage dirtbag, but you may call me baby."

"Oh fuck," Ray whispers, because he can see the shade of red the General is taking -- dragons are to be named by their captains according to naming protocol, not by themselves after some song a grunt sang during transport. Still, there's nothing for it now, and all Ray can do is ignore Brad practically asphyxiating as he tries to hide his laughter beside him, take the harness out of Lieutenant Stark's grip and slip it on Noel, who accepts it gracefully, then eagerly follows him over to where the butchered camel is ready for her.

He's somewhat relieved to see that she loses some of her elegance tearing into the camel flesh, but most of his relief is focused on the fact that Noel refuses to let him out of her sight, and FMU are not idiots enough to shout at him in front of her; so he's safe at least until tomorrow from whatever reprimands will follow for the fact that not only did Ray just skip the ranks to his dragon, but unless Noel can be convinced to take a new name, they'll be technically without a company.

"If you think for even a moment, Ray, that command is going to let a Ghuber Tineen go just because her name does not match up with your company, you're IQ is even lower than I previously suspected," Brad says. Noel's asleep in Ray's lap, while Brad's dragon Baldr mutters darkly nearby about how he doesn't see why he has to lose one of _his_ crew to this new hajji dragon. Ray's a little too in awe of the creature in his lap to tease him about how Baldr sounds like the injured party in a break-up. Softer, Brad adds, "They're going to let you keep her, and her name, even if they're going to have to have her call sign as Bravo Baby to adhere to their frankly ludicrous naming regulations."

"She's so tiny," Ray whispers, "What if they won't let me use her at all? She won't be able to have much crew on."

"You heard the doc," Brad replies, "She'll be perfect for recon, by his estimates and judging from rumors we've had about the Ghubar Tananeen. I bet FMU are already creaming themselves at the possibilities for her use after she's fully grown and trained."

"She's not that special, just look at her, she'll turn out all tiny," Baldr sniffs, sullen. "I ate twice her meal when I came out of my shell, and I _never_ looked that fragile."

Brad sighs, and leaves Ray's side to go and try to assure his dragon that he's still the most special little snowflake of them all. Ray can't help the smitten grin on his face as he looks down at Noel, trailing a finger lightly down her spine. "You're going to knock them all dead."

  
 **III.**  
Noel grows, but not at the rate Ray's used to seeing dragons grow. By the time she's six months, they're back stateside, and she's no bigger than a garbage truck, and she'll only take on two people in harness. By Doc's measurements she's stopped growing altogether, and unless they've had a particularly trying day in training, she'll keep herself to a cow for her meal.

Ray gets a lot of shit for having a dragon so small and light, with the other dragons at the covert other than the couriers all dwarfing her in all length, height and weight; until, that is, they realize that Noel can out fly and get closer to the enemy camps in the training exercises than any other dragon in the Corps.

The Corps is unfamiliar with the Arabic dragons, mostly considered too precious to be used in war, and the acquisition of a dragon so perfect for recon -- fast, light and capable of gliding silently over great distances -- practically made the FMU piss themselves in joy, once they realized.

They didn't even bother to try and force the issue of Noel's name being changed to fit the regulations, instead Noel -- who'd apparently heard Brad that first night -- brightly suggested that she'd be quite happy in the field with a call sign like Bravo Baby.

They're less happy with Ray, but what the fuck ever, like Ray even cares so long as he's still allowed to fly. He's got the most badass fucking dragon in the corps, and to make things even better, he hasn't even really been kicked off Baldr's crew, since Noel is small enough to ride on Baldr's back without getting in the way, and the higher-ups have decided she'll be more use in any potential tricky situations well rested.

The only ones really unhappy with this arrangement are Baldr and Noel, though Ray thinks they might be growing slightly sweet on each other if the tone of their bickering is anything to go by, not that Brad will ever admit his dragon is the type to pull pigtails.

"I never pegged you for a cradle robber, Mistletoe," Ray tells Baldr, one day while Brad is safely out of hearing range. He gets a blast of smoke in his face for his trouble, which is at least better than a blast of fire, but still enough to have Noel come charging at Baldr shouting about how that's her _Captain_ and how dare Baldr try to harm him, she'd never put Brad in a sandstorm even if the fucking moronic leeches up top ask her to.

The only real lesson there, Ray decides as he heads for the camp showers to wash the soot away before anyone actually important sees him, is that he needs to watch his fucking mouth around her.

  
 **IV.**  
"Brad, I don't know what the fuck kind of hajji shit you've gotten your hands on and started smoking," Ray says, "but if you seriously think I'm going to allow Trombley on my baby, you should quit it right now before it takes the rest of your brain capacity with it. I am not letting that psycho attach even a single harness to my baby, unless the other end of it is a noose around his neck. You don't know what he'd do to her! He'll corrupt her, he'll ruin her! I fear for her safety, Bradley."

"Ray, I do not care what your personal feelings are on this matter, because if you think for even a minute that Noel would fail to defend her honor or even the measly scrap of honor you still possess, the next time we go up, I'm throwing your stash of Rip Fuel off Baldr's back."

"You wouldn't," Ray snorts, "but I'm telling you right now, if you put Trombley on my baby, I'm going to pitch him in front of Bush and tell Captain America the hajjis have learnt to fly. I want Walt."

Brad sighs. "You know as well as I do that Trombley's the better marksman. If you are to be at optimum fighting power, you'll need him abroad. You're getting Trombley, and you'll either accept it, or I go bother Fick with this."

Ray has nothing against Fick or his dragon Bia, in fact, Fick is the most stand-up Captain from command Ray has ever had the pleasure of answering to -- his family's been in the business of captaining dragons since America got its first dragon, practically, and Bia is one of the older dragons in the platoon, belonging to his father.

Brad knows this, which Ray suspects is exactly why he mentioned it. They both respect Fick too much to want to bother him with something as trivial as this, especially since Fick already has to deal with the shit Encino Man and Casey Kasem are throwing at him.

"Fine, I'll take Trombley on board," Ray says, the words tasting sour in his mouth. Later, as Noel is happily munching into a goat while Ray's tearing into his MRE with less enthusiasm, he adds, "If you ever feel kinda peckish while we're in flight, I'd understand if you decided to go for him."

Noel levels a disapproving glance at him. "Bradley's correct, you know. We'll be much better off in a fight if we have Trombley in harness. While I am fond of Walt, he does not shoot with the same accuracy at my speed. Besides, I quite imagine humans would taste not at all as delicious as a goat or a cow."

"You'll never know until you try," Ray protests, but he lets it drop, and Noel seems appeased when he launches into Alice Cooper’s _Poison_.

Halfway through, when Trombley calls out that they're acting kinda gay, since Q-Tip and Walt have decided to join him in singing his dragon to sleep, Ray just smiles and continues on with the next lyric as behind him he can hear Brad tell Trombley to shut up. Brad drops down next to Ray and joins in in time for the last chorus, and Noel rumbles happily, disrupting her and Baldr's attempt to provide the melody.

  
  
by the lovely hulubululu


End file.
